


Not Much for a Soul

by ChibisUnleashed



Series: RotG Halloween 2020 [6]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Consent issues dragged out into the light lawl, Demon AU, Fluff, Humor, Kind of a meetcute if you tilt your head and squint a little, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed
Summary: For ROTG Halloween 2020: Day 6A flat bike tire changes Pitch's future.
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Series: RotG Halloween 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967113
Kudos: 17





	Not Much for a Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Sylph!!

This route was a lot less terrifying on a bike. 

The traffic was too far away. Pitch never usually had that thought, but tonight, limited to the speed and resilience of his own two feet, the sounds of life were muffled and distant. He felt that if something happened to him here, no one would arrive in time. No one might even hear him.

The buildings on either side of the street were tall and dark, closed and locked for the night. Nobody here had worked as late as Pitch had. None of them had stayed late enough to be sentry for his safe passage. 

He was being dramatic. 

Nothing was going to happen. If there was nobody here, the way it looked and sounded, then there was no one here to help him nor hurt him. He just had to get home.

Pitch reset his grip on the handlebars and decided not to think about it anymore. He would need to get the tire replaced in the morning; he didn’t want to walk this path at night again if he didn’t have to. 

“Nice bike.”

Pitch damn near jumped out of his skin. It was his own fault. He’d hyped up the desertion of the street and the creepiness of the quiet all by himself. If he was afraid of the lone, thin teen standing under the streetlight who looked like he might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, he did it to himself. 

What was this kid doing out here, anyway? 

“Thanks.” The reply was automatic. Compliment? Thanks. “Can I help you?”

“Oooh,” the teen smiled. “Accent. I like it.”

Pitch wished he hadn’t stopped, because now it would be rude to keep walking. 

“You don’t seem lost.”

The teen shook his head. “Nah, I’m right where I want to be.”

Pitch thought as much. He gestured in the direction he’d been walking. “Then, if you don’t mind…”

He didn’t manage a full step before the teen spoke again. “Maybe you can still help me.”

Pitch swallowed, irritated, and put his foot back down. Manners were a curse. “With?”

“I’m Jack,” he said, and tilted his head forward charmingly with a smile to match, “and I’m looking for some souls. May I have yours?”

Pitch couldn’t help it. He snorted a laugh. 

“I know, it sounds stupid—”

“That’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

“It is pretty bad, isn’t it?” Jack’s nose wrinkled in distaste, but his smile didn’t go anywhere. “What’s your name?”

“Pitch.” He nodded. “But I’m not really looking to date, right now, so…”

He was stopped again. “Not even a pretty little thing like me?” Jack batted his blue eyes at him and tilted his face at an alluring angle. It was an impressively self-aware display. 

And Pitch had to admit, those eyes were quite pretty. Combined with his pale, dishevelled hair and rounded chin, the man was striking. And maybe he wasn’t as young as Pitch originally thought; he’d never met someone under the age of twenty this smooth. Smooth didn’t mean trustworthy, though. “I don’t even know you.”

“You know I’m looking for souls,” Jack insisted with bright eyes and a convincing grin. 

Pitch snorted again. “Does that line ever work?”

“Surprisingly high success rate.”

Pitch shook his head, but there was a laugh on his lips. Disbelieving maybe, but a laugh all the same. “You’re on an awfully deserted street if you’re looking for people.”

Jack’s grin changed. It was small, but Pitch could swear it was… devilish, now. “I found one,” he pointed out. 

Which, Pitch shrugged a shoulder, “I’ll give you that.” 

Jack splayed his hands and despite all the smiles, all the posing, now was the most salesman-like he’d seemed all night. “So what do you want for it?”

Pitch furrowed his brows. Had he missed something? “What do you mean?”

“Say I was a demon,” Jack said, moving his hands and shoulders in overly casual ways that made Pitch pay extra attention to them, to what they could be hiding, “Say I was  _ actually  _ looking for souls. Would you sell me yours?”

That was maybe the oddest question Pitch had ever been asked. He wondered why he wasn’t saying no. “I suppose that depends. What are you offering?”

Jack laughed. It wasn’t the sleazy laugh of a dealmaker or the forced laugh of marketing. He sounded delighted. “Care and affection?”

Pitch considered it, but only for a second. “That doesn’t seem like much for a soul.”

“It’s really not.” Jack shook his head, and Pitch got the impression he was having the time of his life with this. 

Pitch suddenly realized he was still clutching his bike, standing on a deserted street in his work clothes, talking to a man barely out of college about selling souls. He blinked, and said the words before he thought more about it. “This is an odd conversation to be having this time of night in a place like this.”

Jack shrugged and leaned back against the light pole behind him. The yellow cone made it hard for Pitch to say whether his hair was actually white or a pale blond, and it washed out the blue in his eyes. “How about love?”

Pitch blinked again and told himself to stop looking so hard at Jack. They were having a conversation, still, apparently. “I’m sorry, what?”

“If I promised to love you,” Jack said, with a patience and exactness that made his words sound much more serious than this hypothetical conversation probably deserved, “would you sell me your soul for that?”

Pitch tilted his head curiously. “Wouldn’t you already have it?” 

Jack’s smile was so much more gentle now. “That would be if you,” he pointed at Pitch, then himself. “Loved me.”

Pitch took a second, but conceded. “So it would.” 

“If anything,” Jack continued, “it would be like you owned  _ my  _ soul.”

Pitch shifted his weight and released the handle of his bike to set that hand on his hip. If every romance novel ever written was to be believed, then that was not untrue. Many questions sprang to Pitch’s mind. “Is this a line you usually use to pick people up?”

Jack barked a surprised laugh. “You know, actually, I’ve never tried it quite like this before.”

Pitch wasn’t sure he believed that. “Why would you purchase a soul just to give yours back?”

“Well, because I wouldn’t  _ actually  _ be giving mine, since I don’t really have one to give, but also,” Jack’s eyes had rolled up as he thought, his arms sort of half-crossed, half-gesturing as he worked through the logic. It was kind of endearing. “‘Cause it would be nice, right? Being in love? Loving someone and knowing they wouldn’t leave you?”

Pitch supposed he could see the appeal, put like that. It was a little bit psychotic and a lotta bit problematic, but alright, in a fantasy sort-of assumed consent kind of way, loving someone and knowing they wouldn’t leave you  _ was  _ nice. “But  _ can  _ you love if you’re missing your soul?”

Jack bit his lip, looking very pleased. “You sure can.”

“You sound very confident,” Pitch mused. This whole conversation was very strange. To imagine Pitch wouldn’t be having it if he’d missed that nail. “So if I sell you my soul, you’ll promise to love me forever?”

“Well, as long as you live,” Jack said. He seemed wholly unconcerned about that. “And you’d have to wait ten years, of course. Soul contracts always come with a grace period before they start.”

“Oh, of course.” Pitch pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. “I never meant to rush. How could I forget that deals with demons have a decade delay? How foolish of me.”

Jack’s smile widened and he pushed away from the streetlight. “I really like you.”

Pitch was flattered and a little bit shocked. His hand drifted down from his chest. “After only one conversation?”

Jack shrugged carelessly. “Sometimes you just know.” 

His steps didn’t stop. Pitch wasn’t sure what to do, but with his bike to steady, he couldn’t exactly retreat. Or, at least, not without being terribly obvious about it. 

“Sometimes you’re wrong.”

“Yeah,” Jack breathed, now close enough that he didn’t have to speak at full volume for Pitch to hear him. He finally stopped at a very polite, but very forward, distance. Pitch wasn’t sure what to do. “But I don’t think I am.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Jack’s smile looked  _ so very  _ pleased. 

“So just to recap,” he said, and Pitch was sure from his expression, from his body language, that he was having so much fun with this, “If I promise to love you, with all my heart, ten years from now of course.”

Pitch found himself muttering, “Of course,” but he didn’t know why.

“Then you’ll give me your soul?”

He wasn’t sure why this needed a recap. It was all hypothetical, wasn’t it? There was no way Jack was actually going to love him in ten years, especially not if they didn’t…  _ see _ each other between then and now. But those were the terms they had discussed, weren’t they? 

“I suppose I’m not doing anything with it.”

Jack laughed, but he was shaking his head. And moving forward again. “Good answer, but that’s not how contracts work. You have to say yes.” Jack looked up and met his eyes very intently. “Or, you know, ‘I do.’”

“I do?”

Jack nodded. “You do.”

Pitch wasn’t sure why he was saying anything at all, but Jack was very close now and Pitch… wanted to. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” 

Pitch gasped. Cold fingers pressed against the side of his face, and he wondered when Jack’s hand had gotten that close. His palm tilted Pitch’s face, and now he knew what Jack wanted. What he wanted, too, if he was honest. It was a silly deal to make, there was no way it was real, but it seemed real, and this felt real, and Jack really didn’t seem all that young, anymore.

Pitch’s hand found its way to Jack’s waist, thin and solid, and that was all the grounding he needed to make a decision, to lean down and take Jack’s lips with his. 

It was a chaste kiss, tentative, very unsure, but lingering, and sweet. So sweet, light, like a first love or a New Year’s promise. It filled his chest and made it hard to breathe, and Pitch hadn’t shared a kiss like that in… a while. 

Jack, the nymph, licked his lips once then pulled away. It was a terrible tease, but since Pitch wasn’t sure what had come over him in the first place, it was probably best it stay that way. He wasn’t in the habit of kissing strangers on the street and yet, here he was.

“See you in ten years, then,” Jack said as he drifted out of Pitch’s hold. He waved, a flirty little flip of his hand, then started down the street and into the darkness.

Pitch shook himself. Wait, what? “You’re joking?” He wasn’t serious. He was leaving?

“Oh no,” Jack turned back with a secret smile. “We sealed it with a kiss. That means it’s a deal.” He closed one eye in a slow, seductive wink, and only then did Pitch notice the unnatural glow in his bright, blue eyes. They were lit from within by a cold burning fire. Under the streetlight, he never could have guessed. But out in the dark... Jack looked otherworldly. “Your soul is mine, Sweetheart.”

Jack… 

Had he really been a demon all along?

“Don’t get too old,” Jack said. He spun slowly on his feet and continued along the street. “I like ‘em spry.” His laugh echoed between buildings on the deserted street. “But I’ve got a good feeling about you. I might even already love you.”

He was insane, surely. Pitch gaped as he watched Jack simply leave him behind after all of that, but between one shadow and the next, he was gone, and there was nothing left to watch. 

Pitch wondered what that meant for his soul. 


End file.
